


The Divine Chosen

by Treekianthia



Series: The Divine Chosen [1]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: (More Character tags to be added as chapters are added), Alternate Universe, Gen, Lore Building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16193774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treekianthia/pseuds/Treekianthia
Summary: (Alternate Universe) Ancient Legends have always spoken of mortals who would one day bear the marks of the Gods. They were referred to as the Divine Chosen, and for centuries humans had hopes that they would one day show. Finally, after generations of humans trying to prove their worth, the Divine Chosen begin to appear...





	1. Aelfric's Voice

**Author's Note:**

> The following set of fics is designed to help establish lore in an upcoming series of fics. While more information can be found on my twitter @woodland_knight, there will also be more details in the notes below.

It was long forgotten that Aelfric hid their identity so their voice could be heard.

Aelfric was seen as the most pure God, being in control of Life, Prayer, and Family. He guided all those who followed him, and his sacred flame was a symbol of peace amongst all those in Orsterra. He had fought in order to protect the land from those who craved disorder, and paid for it by having to leave humanity’s side. It was a legend told by all of those who prayed to the sacred flame, and many texts recounted the events in a variety of ways. Some stated Aelfric was slain by chaos, while others say he willingly gave up his life to protect the people who served him…

But none of them ever spoke the truth.

All texts had erased the fact that Aelfric had truly been a woman.

The Goddess Aelfric had been raised by a warrior, but it was never in her nature to raise a blade and fight. She chose to find peace through diplomacy, and her voice was said to end any dispute she found herself in. This led her to serve as a mediator to the people, which she did well. When a problem arose, it was her job to find the most beneficial solution, and peace was present whenever she was.

When a war broke out amongst humanity, it became Aelfric’s duty to end it. Humans had known mostly peace for centuries, but now they had suddenly turned their backs on each other. The Goddess could not tell what had started this war, but she knew she could not let it persist. The prayers of humanity were reaching her, and with them, the horrors of the battles. The world was descending into chaos.

Villages were being raided, and homes burnt to the ground. Bloody battles erupted in all domains of the land, and the lives of many had been lost. Aelfric could not stand such a sight, but it was beyond anything she had ever seen before. Conflicts in Orsterra had always been small, but this war was on a grander scale. There was nothing that she could do with words alone to stop it...

So the Goddess felt she had no choice but to fight instead.

Divine weapon in hand, Aelfric appeared before those who had prayed to her. She spoke of her will to fight, her desire to help her followers win the war. Though she was an icon of peace and protection, she could still raise her weapon high. The people, however, only whispered amongst themselves. The Goddess was left to await their response.

…they did not believe a woman, no matter how divine, should partake in the war.

Aelfric was turned away, and with it, the war only grew worse. For two centuries the world continued to be consumed by chaos, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her voice fell onto deaf ears, and her own prayers for peace were being forgotten. Her beloved followers only knew death and violence, and not a sound could leave her lips. She had been silenced by those who believed in her.

In time, only a handful of her followers remained amongst humanity. Though Aelfric had been forced into silence, they believed that she could still save them. She was still a symbol of peace, and the world needed to once again know it. Humanity was dying at its own hands, and those who fought had been blinded by the chaos. It was if humanity had lost all sense of what they had believed in.

Aelfric knew she could not let it persist any longer.

Donning a mask and tying back her hair, Aelfric once more appeared in front of humanity. She did not speak of who she was, but instead claimed to be a warrior who had been sent from the divine plane. Weaving her false identity, she said she had been chosen by the God of Life to serve at their side. She erased all hints of being a woman, and instead spun tales of Aelfric, a God with a gift to guide people towards peace. A gift he had passed down to his warrior.

The people followed her without question, and she officially became a part of the war. Though the battles were harsh and grueling, she stood her ground as she had been taught to do many centuries ago. Even if she could not fight as a woman, it did not make her weak. She took pride in her own abilities, and many battles were won at her hand. She became a shining beacon of hope.

With her in the lead, those fighting against the chaos began to take control. They were winning the war, and Aelfric had proved her worth through her guise. The people celebrated her, and she continued to push forward to bring back peace from within the tempest of chaos. The people spoke praises to Aelfric for sending such a strong warrior, and the people sent her their prayers. They were grateful for all she had done.

No… They were grateful for all  _ he _ had done.

Grateful to the God that Aelfric pretended to be.

The final battle drew close, and Aelfric prepared to face the source of the chaos. Though her own lies had erased who she truly was, it was a sacrifice she felt had to be made. The people wanted her as a man and a warrior, not as a woman and a healer. Though she longed for the days she could be true to herself, they had come to pass. She had chosen this route for herself; she had chosen to hide the truth.

...yet some truth would still be revealed.

The source of the chaos was a divine being who had fallen to darkness. Consumed with grief, he had corrupted his domain and spread anger and hatred. It had been fuel for the war, and the reason the people still fought to this day. There was no hope to save such a creature, leaving Aelfric no choice. She would have to seal him away for all eternity.

Life and Death clashed, and the two Gods battled as if they were in a dance. They were completely in sync, and those who witnessed the battle were said to be in awe. Humanity had not yet before seen such a fight, and both sides were compelled to serve witness. It was the first time that death had been halted, and the violence disappeared. It was if the Gods were all that existed in that moment.

There was a cry to the heavens, loud and fierce.

With Divine Weapon in hand, Aelfric called out to humanity. He was Aelfric, the Warrior God of Life. His voice would be heard far and wide, and he would no longer be silenced. Mustering his strength, he summoned flames of light from the heavens above and let them consume him. He would not let the chaos continue.

He sacrificed himself to seal away the Dark God forever.

And with his last breath he spoke of a Voice.

A Voice who would devote themselves to him and speak of his stories.

A Voice who would drive away darkness and guide the light.

A Voice who would bear the mark of the flame and ensure Aelfric was never silenced again.

Centuries had since passed, and the flames of light that had consumed Aelfric still burnt strong. As he left humanity for the divine plane, those who followed him kept it burning bright. Though the flames had since then been brought to the church, it showed no signs of weakening. Aelfric still lived on through his light. He still watched over humanity.

It had been a sleepless night for Ophilia. At the tender age of 8, she found herself lying awake in bed as her sister Lianna slept next to her. Ophilia was restless, and no matter how hard she tried she could not fall back asleep. She laid with her eyes closed for what felt like hours, but still she was awake. The clock in the room continued to tick with each passing hour; it did not seem she would get a full night’s rest.

It was quiet when she snuck out of the room. She had done her best not to wake Lianna, and now found herself walking to the main hall of the Cathedral. Ophilia thought perhaps somebody else would be awake citing a late night prayer, and they could discuss the next morning’s service until she fell asleep. She was fond of talking about Aelfric, and the flame fascinated her. Something inside her always drew her to it.

When she reached the flame, Ophilia was shocked to see somebody she did not know. She was a beautiful woman, hand clasped in prayer, and no words left her lips. Ophilia hid behind the pews and watched the woman as she prayed. The young girl did not move, and she too did not make a sound. The woman, however, still knew she was there.

Ophilia was nervous when the woman called her over, but she obliged nonetheless. The woman was smiling and asking her questions, and Ophilia noted she looked as bright as the flame itself. She beckoned Ophilia to stand next to her, and the two stood admiring the Sacred Flame together. Ophilia felt a gentle warmth coming from it. She clasped her hands in prayer.

“May the Goddess Aelfric help you find your voice.”

Ophilia looked at the woman. The young girl was curious, and she asked the woman what she had meant. Aelfric was a god, not a goddess. He should be referred to as such. The woman, however, shook her head.

“Aelfric is a woman, sweet child. Do not let those who say otherwise silence you.”

Ophilia woke up the next morning in a daze. She was back in her bed with no memory of how she had gotten there. Lianna was already awake, and she urged her sister to start getting ready for the day. Ophilia was dragged out of bed by her sister, and she sleepily walked over to their shared vanity and sat down. Comb in hand, Lianna went over and started brushing her sister’s hair.

It was then that Lianna cried out to their father, and the Archbishop was rushed in.

Ophilia did not know what was going on, but Lianna began pointing at something on the back of Ophilia’s neck. The Archbishop went to investigate, and a loud gasp escaped his lips. He called for more priests, and soon the room was crowded as people pushed to get a look. They were whispering amongst each other, and Ophilia thought she was going to cry. Lianna held her hand to comfort her.

In time, the Archbishop approached Ophilia. He asked her if she had felt strange that morning, or if she had noticed anything odd. She said she had not, but that she had gone to the flame the previous evening. A hush fell across the room, only to be broken by the Archbishop clearing his throat. He kneeled down next to her.

The Archbishop told Ophilia she had been marked; that the God Aelfric had chosen her to speak for him. Though Ophilia was not certain of what he meant in full, she still shook her head. She told him that he was wrong, and that Aelfric was actually a Goddess. The woman she saw in front of the flame had said so. Ophilia did not think the woman had been lying.

Gasps and murmurs filled the room, and the Archbishop took Ophilia’s hand. He asked her about the woman and if she had anything else to share. It was then that Ophilia heard a voice in her head, telling her what to say. She recounted everything she was told, and the voice thanked her for it. It was the voice belonging to the woman from the night before.

Though Ophilia did not know it at the time, the woman would soon become a permanent part of her life.

Aelfric had chosen the young girl to be her Voice, and it was Ophilia’s duty to make sure it was never silenced again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after weeks and weeks of working on these... The first eight fics for this series are finally done! It's been a huge labor of love, and I've been so nervous about finally sharing these. I'm honestly not sure how well this kind of AU will be received, which is why this is serving as a tests of sorts. If the reaction is good enough, there will be a series of at least four fics exploring different aspects (and relationships) in this AU! If not... Well, at least I tried.
> 
> I will be posting one fic a day in Octopath order until all eight base fics are uploaded! Depending on how things go, there may be even more in the future!
> 
> I look forward to sharing the rest with you all!


	2. Alephan's Scholar

The legends stated Alephan had been shot in the forehead.

As the god of Knowledge, Truth, and Justice, Alephan had been both a historian and writer. When the world had first began to form, it had been his duty to record all that he saw. It was said that in his writings he described the creation of mountains, the rising of seas, and all that came with the birth of Orsterra. It became the world’s first collection of knowledge, and it was an item that many a man desired to hold in his hand. That was, however, until it disappeared from the pages of history.

It was simply referred to as the Lost Knowledge.

During his existence in the mortal world, Alephan was known for endlessly traveling the land. Though there was no place he had yet to see, he continuously searched for new events to record with each passing day. Ancient texts described him as carrying a book with an infinite number of pages, binding together all of the history and knowledge he had recorded. It was said to have been made from a magic beyond what existed in the mortal world, and it served as proof of his status as a god. The book made him an endless fountain of knowledge, but the water did not flow freely.

As time passed, it became common for mortals to seek out Alephan during his travels. Thirsty for knowledge, they approached in hopes of getting a glimpse at even a single page of his work. Alephan, however, would not just let any mortal hold the infinite book in their hands. Only those who seeked to better the world were given the chance to read the Lost Knowledge, and Alephan could determine who those people were. It was in his nature to see the truth in people’s hearts.

Yet those he could trust were few in number.

And Alephan made enemies of all those he turned away.

In a still forming world, an endless flow of knowledge was dangerous. In the wrong hands it would lead to ruin, giving Alephan a need to protect most mortals from the truths that existed within his tome. While those who were lucky enough to learn from him spoke only of miracles to come, those turned away became what Alephan had feared. They were mortals so thirsty for knowledge that they wanted it only for themselves. In their search for the truth of the world, they lost all sense of what the truth really was.

These mortals were the first scholars.

The first scholars were men and women of all ages and origin. Many had already been rejected at Alephan’s hand, and those who had yet to be still seeked the ultimate prize. To them, knowledge was only something to be obtained, not something to be shared with others. It would bring them status and wealth, and any who glimpsed at Alephan’s knowledge would be treated as a saint. With such a view on the world, Alephan could only continue to despise them.

They all deserved their rejection at his hands.

And not even death would bring him to regret turning them away.

It had been a fateful day in winter when Alephan had been travelling in a northwestern wood. Tome in hand, he walked through the silent forest as a fresh layer of snow began to fall. The wildlife had all vanished, either out of fear or respect for the god, and the only tracks in the snow were his own. It was as if he were a ghost, and all the world was avoiding him… That was, until something wasn’t.

In the distance, a figure clad in elegant robes stood in wait. By the way they dressed, Alephan could tell they were of high status, and he assumed they were another scholar in search of him. Holding his tome tight, he slowly began to approach the robed figure. They did not move, and instead they watched as Alephan moved forward. As he walked, Alephan could sense the feelings within the figure’s heart.

They were angry; angry they had been rejected.

They felt betrayed; betrayed by somebody they had devoted years to learn from.

They wanted Alephan’s knowledge for themself, and they were willing to do anything to obtain it…

...even kill a god.

The arrow was shot cleanly and hit its mark with ease. Ten feet away, the robed figure stood with bow in hand as they pointed towards Alephan. The anger they had felt had been released with the arrow, and he sensed pride in its place. Satisfied with what they had done, they drew closer and removed their robes. It was then that Alephan recognized them as his own student; one who had gone down the path of greed.

Falling to his knees, Alephan closed his eyes and shed a single tear. Blood dripped from his forehead onto the tome in hand, staining the pages he had spent centuries writing in. Though the stains would not render his words unreadable, it would curse any who touched it. In the hands of his student, it would lead them and their family to pursue knowledge endlessly. They would gain an obsession with his work, and though they would all find fame and fortune, they would ultimately lead themselves to ruin…

Yet Alephan was not cruel.

There would be a way to break the curse.

Alephan knew his student originally had a good heart, but it had been twisted by a desire to keep great knowledge to themself. If a member of their bloodline were to have the same good heart, he would allow them to read through his work. Then, if they used his knowledge to help the world, just as he had wished, the curse would be broken. Those who had suffered at the curse’s hands would be free from eternal torment, and Alephan could rest in peace.

It was, however, not as simple as it seemed.

The one who held the tome would have to prove their desire to spread the knowledge Alephan had gifted to them. Many mortals could be born with a good heart, but many more could easily become twisted. Their heart would have to be pure and just, or else they would fail as soon as they held the tome in their hands. It was only when a true scholar, one who learned in order to teach others, was born that Alephan would consider lifting the curse.

And when one such soul arrived, Alephan would leave his mark.

He would place his symbol on their forehead, in place of his wound, where everyone could see.

And when the world saw, it would be known that this mortal was Alephan’s Chosen Scholar.

In his endless pursuit of knowledge, Cyrus had never expected to find the tome. He had heard the legends, but also knew that Alephan had survived the ordeal after being saved by the Goddess Draefendi and her animal companion. The tome, however, had been taken by the time she found him, and no trace of the student was left. Some researchers discovered it had been passed from hand to hand for some time afterward, but it was eventually stolen by thieves. That was when it had officially been lost to history.

Scholars from all around Orsterra began their search as soon as word of Alephan’s fall spread. With the tome out of the God’s hands, it was the perfect opportunity for mortals to obtain what they had been denied. Having come from a family of scholars, Cyrus knew the dangers that had been brought upon by the search for the Lost Knowledge very well. His grandfather ended his own life over his failure, and his father had disappeared following a baseless lead. After experiencing such tragedy, Cyrus vowed he would not fall into the same trap as his family had.

When Cyrus began studying at the academy, he chose to only pursue knowledge already in reach. Even though so much was unknown in the world, waiting to be discovered, he felt an impulse to instead educate those who had not had the same opportunities that he had. That was the driving force that led him to become a scholar, not selfishness or fame. It was a philosophy that served him well, as in time he went from being the student to being the teacher. He would be able to share knowledge like he wanted.

It was why he found himself in the Royal Archives that day.

He had originally gone in order to find a book to help further his own research. His students had asked him a question he embarrassingly hadn’t known the full answer to, so he promised he would find what info he needed and get back to them the following day. The book covering the subject had been placed on one of the higher shelves, but it was no problem to obtain. A ladder would suffice, and Cyrus had no fear of climbing. It was a simple task that not even he could mess up.

Or so Cyrus would have liked to believe.

Somehow, he made an unfortunate mistake while grabbing the book. Though his limbs were in no way short (he himself being of an average height) he had overreached and lost his balance. As he knocked his head against the shelf, book after book fell onto the floor, and he could feel himself getting flustered. He quickly regained composure, however, and climbed down to inspect the damage. He really had caused a mess.

As he picked up the books and placed them into a pile for sorting, he noticed something peculiar. On the middle shelf, tucked behind where some newer books had been placed, there was another book he had never seen before. Reaching over, Cyrus grabbed it to inspect it, and a strange sensation came over him as he felt the leather against his hands. Something inside him told him he was destined to find it.

The tome was light in his hand, yet the page number was massive. As Cyrus flipped through it, he felt as if it would never end. Inspecting it closer, he could tell that the book was older, and the title had been worn down with age. Even more interesting was the large, dark stain that covered all of the pages. It was in absolutely poor shape.

“Great Scholar of the Albright family, prove to me your worth.”

Cyrus spun around as he heard a voice call to him. He had been alone when he entered, and though he swore he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, there was nothing. He was still the only one in the archives, yet somebody had clearly spoken to him,

“Use my knowledge to help the world, and all shall be forgiven.”

...perhaps Cyrus had hit his head a bit too hard when he knocked his forehead into the shelf.

As he cleaned the mess he made, Cyrus couldn’t help but notice a strange pain in the middle of his forehead. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was enough to be an annoyance. Trying his best to ignore the pain, Cyrus worked to return the books to their original location. The only one left out was the mysterious text he had found, as his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d have to remember to come back for the other book later.

It was not until he left the archive that Cyrus gained a full understanding of what had happened. The woman at the entrance desk gasped when she saw him, and she asked what had happened to his forehead. He laughed and said it was only a bruise forming from when he had hit a shelf, but she shook her head and said that was impossible. Taking out her pocket mirror, she handed it to Cyrus, who immediately noticed something odd. It was indeed not a bruise on his forehead...

It was a mark.

A symbol used to represent knowledge and the god Alephan himself.

And evidence showing the book in hand was in truth the Lost Knowledge….

...and proof that Cyrus’ family had been cursed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus begins Cyrus' endless anxiety and suffering in this AU :D (I love him despite it, I promise)
> 
> I feel like at this point I want to bring up something important! Though I'm posting in Octopath name order, it's not the order in which everyone is marked! If I did post in the order everyone was marked, then it would seem super random and spoil some things for down the line. So instead... We get the easiest order for posting!
> 
> Also, we have the first hint at one of the major pairings in this AU, hoho! I don't personally think it's that subtle, but then again, I did write it myself, oops.


	3. Bifelgan's Idol

Thieves and merchants had always existed within a cycle of wealth and greed.

Bifelgan was the goddess who served the side of Wealth, as it, along with Fortunes and Fertility, were under her command. The people referred to her as the Lady Bifelgan, as she placed herself among humanity as a noble woman and a merchant. Though she was of high status, she treated all below her as her equal. She felt no human should have to suffer based on status, and worked to spread her wealth with those who needed it. There was one group, however, she would never give aid to; a group that she had come to despise.

Bifelgan hated thieves above all else in the world.

As the symbol of wealth, Bifelgan had become a patron saint to the merchants that traveled the land. They looked to her for guidance, and it was said that she herself was the greatest merchant of all time. She was known to love a good bargain, and she would give out advice in exchange for goods. The thieves, however, made her job difficult. As those who had fallen to greed, it was not uncommon for them to go after those they deemed more fortunate.

Bifelgan spent much of her time protecting her followers from those who tried to steal their goods and wealth. Though she was a lady of noble status, it did not prevent her from knowing how to fight. She was said to carry a divine lance and bow with her to ward off thieves, and strong winds followed wherever she went. In time, thieves learned to fear the wind, and those Bifelgan protected were free to continue their trade. There was no thief left who would face her…

Or so she had wished.

Within the cycle that had been created, there existed a single thief who held no fear towards Bifelgan. He was nameless, having cast away any sense of himself long ago, and was rumored to exist only in shadows. His thievery was violent, and even the winds did not deter him from going after his mark. Many merchants were left for dead at his hand, yet he made it a point to never kill them when attempting to obtain his prize. Such acts allowed him to obtain endless amounts of wealth, and it was unknown what he did with all that he stole.

The Lady Bifelgan could not allow such a creature to continue his trade, but even for her, he was uncapturable. It was if he did not exist in the mortal world, as all her attempts to stop him failed. For years she attempted to ward him off, but he would only continue to go after the wealth of the land. Soon, merchants became afraid of him, and only a few brave souls dared to move forward. The thief had become more beast than man, and the thought of him alone struck fear into people’s hearts.

Yet Bifelgan could not hide the truth.

It was because of her such a creature existed in the first place.

Before he turned to the shadows, the man had been nothing more than a petty thief. He was of no threat, and merchants were normally able to chase him away on their own. That was until the thief claimed to be in love with Bifelgan, and to get her to notice him he tried to accumulate his own fortune. At first, she paid no attention to him, as many men before him had done something foolish in attempts to win her hand. Even as the thief grew in skill and renown, she refused to give him the acknowledgement he craved.

Merchants were growing wary, but the Lady Bifelgan told them to not have fear. Though the number of thefts were increasing under the guidance of the man, she promised that soon it would disperse. The thief who claimed to love her would soon realize that she was not a treasure to be obtained, and he would sink away back from once he came. She would continue to protect them where she could, but they could not yield and give the thief what he truly wanted. He wanted her heart, and she was not willing to give it to him.

It was those words that made the thief decide that he had no choice but to steal her away.

He would kidnap her, and she would become another piece in his growing collection.

It was in Bifelgan’s own chambers that she told the thief that his heart was filled with greed.

Such a man could not feel love, and his feelings for her were nothing more than a desire to obtain a treasure no one else could.

He insisted that he truly loved her and would make her happy.

And that his love for her was the greatest treasure he held in his heart.

But she turned him away.

It was then that Bifelgan called guards to her chamber and the thief was chased away. She had hopes that her words would be enough to reform him, but she quickly learned of her mistake. It was not long before rumors of a violent thief began to spread and merchants began to grow even more uneasy. Though she did not want to admit it, in her heart she knew what she had done. She had created what her followers would soon fear most.

She spent the rest of her time in the mortal world protecting them from the monster she had created.

When Bifelgan finally left for the divine plane, it was not until the thief disappeared as well. It was said to be centuries before the creature clad in shadow was put to rest, but some followers believed he had only gone dormant within their world. It was those rumors that made Bifelgan uneasy, and she feared that with her gone the violence would continue. She needed a way to keep humanity safe, even if she were no longer present. In her mind, there was only one thing to do.

She would leave humanity a gift.

When Bifelgan was once again needed in the world, a human bearing her mark would appear. They would serve the people in her place, and protect them from the violent thief that threatened them. They would truly be a representation of her, and blessed with powers that she herself had obtained.

They would be Bifelgan’s Idol; the one to end the cycle of wealth and greed forever.

When Tressa was born, her parents had already considered her a gift from the goddess. Though they were still young, they had tried many times to conceive a child, but it had all ended in sorrow. It was not until they prayed to the Lady Bifelgan herself that they were blessed with success, and within the year, Tressa was brought into the world. She was everything they had hoped for.

As a small child, Tressa never thought much of the strange birthmark on her hand. Though she sometimes heard adults whisper amongst themselves about it, she didn’t pay it much mind. She was too busy playing with toys or smelling flowers to care, and she lived her life as any other three-year-old would.

She found the most enjoyment in watching her parents work, and it was apparent early on she was destined to be a merchant like her father. Though she was nothing but a toddler, she had a basic understanding of how the trade worked. Adults would give money in exchange for items, and sometimes there would be a discussion about the amount of coin or stock received. Though Tressa could not make complete sense of it, she understood enough that she would give her parents a stray coin she had found in hopes they’d give her sweets. It was as if she were born specifically to take over the family business.

But when her parents were gifted great wealth, things began to change.

Tressa had barely turned four a week prior when it happened. She had accidentally bumped into a stranger, and when her parents went to apologize they were given the deal of a lifetime. The stranger turned out to be a great merchant, and she had been looking for a shop to sell her wares. Though she was a noble woman in title, her greatest love was buying and selling goods. She would give Tressa’s parents her stock each month, and they would be allowed to keep a large portion of whatever money they made.

“Think of it as a gift from the Goddess Bifelgan herself!” the merchant had told them. If only they had known the true power of her words.

It was as if Tressa’s family became rich overnight.

Within a year, stories of the shop that suddenly hit riches and the little girl who had caused it spread along the coastlands. Merchants and nobles alike came to the shop seeking the little girl, all in hopes that she would bring them wealth as she had brought her parents. Tressa didn’t understand at the time what was going on, but she enjoyed the company nonetheless. At some point, visitors began bringing gifts as well, and it became common practice to give Tressa offerings. Many hoped it would increase their chances of obtaining wealth, and it proved to be true.

The people of the coastlands were becoming rich, and rumors of the living goddess began to spread.

By the time she was 13, the Living Goddess of Rippletide was known all across Orsterra. People poured in endlessly to see her, and at such a young age she was easily overwhelmed. She was unable to handle the constant attention, and her parents felt they had no choice but to cut her off from the world. Handmaidens were hired to care for her, and guards were stationed outside of the family home. It was their duty to make sure only those they deemed worthy were let in to see the young girl.

She was a captive in her own home.

As the years passed, Tressa came to detest the mark on her right hand. Though as a young child she had always thought of it only as an odd birthmark, priests serving the Lady Bifelgan identified it as the Goddess’ symbol a few years prior. Now, it was what sealed Tressa’s fate as the Living Goddess, and the reason she could not leave her home. For half a decade she stayed inside, with her only connection to the outside world being her parents, handmaidens, and guards. It was only during special occasions she was allowed to leave the walls she was confined to.

At 18, Tressa was no longer treated as a normal human girl. Her name had been discarded, with her only being referred to as the Lady Bifelgan, and not even her feet were allowed to touch the ground. Her handmaidens were responsible for washing and clothing her, and her guards kept a close watch. The only sense of normalcy she had left in her life was daily meals with her parents and discussions with the captain of her guard. It was the only thing she had left to look forward to in her monotonous existence.

Oh how she wished she had never run into the merchant all those years ago.

If only things had been different and Tressa could erase the words said to her.

“You are a gift from the Goddess Bifelgan herself…”

That was all she was to this world: a gift from the goddess. Her name had been erased, and her life reduced to nothing more than handing out wealth to greedy people. How she longed to be able to leave her home, even if it was just for a day, and to forget the life she was forced to live. She didn’t want to be a living goddess, she wanted to be a regular merchant girl. She wanted to see the world and feel the wind against her skin.

She just wanted to be herself.

But humanity wouldn’t let her.

Because she was the Goddess’ gift to them; she was Bifelgan’s Idol.

And the world didn’t want her to be anything other than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought Cyrus' life sucked, then I raise you Tressa's. Jokes aside, Tressa is one of the two who actually started this AU (along with her romantic partner), so I've been super excited to share hers! Her story is a little bit different than the others, but it's just because of the situation in which she was marked. Out of all of the divine chosen, she's the only one who was actually born with her mark! Of course as my favorite female character and one who started all of this, she gets a little bit of special treatment.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for your continued support, and I'll see you guys again with another chapter tomorrow c:


	4. Brand's Warrior

Brand had always been seen as a guardian.

He was a powerful god, watching over the domains of Conflict, Protection, and Rebirth. Whether it was for humanity or his fellow gods, he served as a shield to protect those who needed it most. He had taken in the Goddesses Aelfric and Draefendi when they had no family to turn to, and warriors in need prayed to him for the strength to defend their beliefs. Though he himself had fought in many battles, none had been started at his hand. It was not in his nature to begin a war.

It was in his nature to end them.

Conflict was not uncommon during the early days of humanity. Orsterra was still young, and the people had yet to establish the boundaries of the continent. They fought to define the land that they lived in, and most conflicts did not last more than a few weeks. Brand did not approve of these battles, but he understood humanity’s desire to establish their world. He saw it as a way to one day prevent them from falling to the ruins of total war.

Brand stood tall and proud in these battles, using his blessing as a god to protect those who worshipped him. Though he could not save all who fought for him, he still promised them the chance of rebirth. He hoped that all who died in his name could live again in a world reborn from the ashes of their efforts. It was considered to be an honor as a warrior to die in Brand’s name. Death was a common connection between all conflicts in Orsterra.

There was one conflict, however, that would become different than the rest.

It had been 300 years since the Goddess Aelfric had ended the war with chaos. Though minor conflicts had risen here and there, no full war had erupted since then. Orsterra had come to know peace, with the Reign of Chaos being their only major war to occur. Though Brand’s beloved daughter watched over the world, he still felt uneasy on the mortal plane. With the earth having gained a taste for violence, it was only a matter of time before another war would begin.

...it had been started by another powerful being: a woman who had declared herself Brand’s equal and rival. She was a master of arms, and any weapon that fell into her hands only added to her power. She granted immense power to her followers, and they were able to penetrate even the most fortified defenses. Those who were attacked began looking to Brand out of fear. They prayed for the protection he could give.

Those prayers were soon answered.

Orsterra was once again at war, and Brand was at the center of it all. His domain had been targeted, and he could not sit back and watch as it fell. Weapons in hand, he joined the battle that his followers waged. He would serve at their side, being their shield and granting them the strength to protect one another. It was the same as he always had done.

The woman’s forces were strong, but Brand’s forces were proving stronger. Though not every battle was won at their hands, they still stood their ground and pushed their enemies back. Brand saw no reason for the war to continue, but the woman ordered her troops to move forward nonetheless. They were dying without a cause, and many of his own followers fell at their hands. It was if they were throwing their lives away just for a chance to taste the power that they were given.

Brand could not let any warrior, enemy or ally, continue to throw their lives away without purpose.

A message was sent to the enemy; through the rankings and up to the woman behind it all. He requested a meeting on the battlefield, where the two of them would have one final duel to end the war. Brand had a duty to protect his people, and even if he fell at his rival’s hands, he knew he would die shielding those who worshipped him from the ever looming threat of death. With Brand gone, there would be no reason for the war to continue. He was the reason the divine woman had started it in the first place.

He, the God of Conflict, and she, the Goddess of War, had always been locked in battle, and would forever continue to be so in the mortal world.

A battle had already erupted around them when the two came face to face. The sounds of metal against metal and the smell of sweat and blood surrounded them, but their focus was on each other. They were both powerful warriors in their own right, one blessed with endless strength and the other endless defenses. It would be no easy battle on either side, but it was what their war had come to. It seemed all wars were destined to revolve around the gods in the end.

Brand did not raise his axe or draw his bow, and instead spoke to the Goddess. He asked her for peace between them, and for her to return to her own domain. She had started this war at her own hands, and he only wished to end it. There was no point in continuing to let countless men and women die under their name, even with all that the two gods could promise them. Humanity had already been destroyed by war once, and they did not need it to happen a second time.

The Goddess watched Brand with a wary eye. Though at first she did not move, Brand was still on edge. He extended his free hand out to her in good will, and offered her people protection as well. Together they could protect this world from falling into ruin, and all they need to do was put the past behind them. After a moment of silence, the Goddess extended her own hand in return.

But it was a trap.

With swift movements of her blades, the Goddess sliced through Brand with ease. She had taken his arms, and with them, two of his four divine weapons. Laughter filled the battlefield as the Goddess held up her spoils victoriously. She had finally won the war and proven herself the better warrior. Now, she could leave Brand to suffer a divine death and force him to leave the mortal plane.

Brand, however, refused to fall so easily.

With his last bit of strength, he summoned the powers of the earth to his side. With a powerful earthquake, he was able to drive away the forces that threatened his domain. The Goddess was forced away by such power, but it was not without consequence. Countless lives were lost in the quake, and Brand was left to face the reality of what he had done. He had won the war, but at the cost of those he promised to protect.

The battlefield was silent as the God was filled with regret. Calling upon the powers of the earth once more, he created a pair of false arms to serve in the place of those he had lost. No pain would make up for the lives of those that had perished. Even with the chance of rebirth, it would not change the fate they had suffered here. They had been killed by the god who promised to be their shield.

...and so Brand vowed to never use his powers again.

Even with his blessing gone, his followers still had hope; hope that one day he would return, and his blessing would be renewed. Hope for the day when Brand was once again at their side...

Hope that one day, a Warrior would once again be chosen to be blessed by the God himself.

As a Knight of Hornburg, Olberic had grown accustomed to praying to Brand before all battles. Though the God no longer fought at the side of mortals, Olberic and others prayed for his protection nonetheless. It was tradition for all those who fought in wars, and some knights even had hope that with their prayers, the blessing of Brand would be renewed. Olberic had believed the blessings to be nothing more than an old wives tale from Orsterra, but he found comfort in his prayers despite it. He felt that there was always a chance somebody was listening.

He was no older than 20 when he finally encountered the horrors of war. He had been betrayed by somebody he trusted, and the King he served had been slain. An endless series of battles erupted during an already violent war, and Olberic had no choice but to continue fighting. Even with the ever lingering threat of death, he had a duty to protect his kingdom and people. It was on his honor as a warrior and a follower of Brand.

It had been the end of a bloody battle when his beliefs on the blessings were changed. Olberic had been scouting for enemy survivors when a powerful knight appeared from behind. Thinking it was an enemy, Olberic quickly drew his weapon and turned towards the knight, who held up a sword of his own. There was a powerful presence to them, and Olberic noticed a strange thing about the hand the knight held his blade in. It did not appear to be made of flesh, but of the earth itself.

“Is it your duty to seek power for yourself, or your duty to protect the people?”

Olberic stared at the knight. It was a strange question to be asked on the battlefield, but it had frozen Olberic in place. He cleared his throat, and with his sword still drawn, he spoke to the knight. He said it was his duty to protect the people, and that all power should be used for such. It did not matter how strong a warrior was, if they could not protect themselves, they were of no use to the people they swore to serve.

The Knight lowered his blade, seemingly satisfied with the answer...

Only to raise the blade back up and attack.

Olberic did not have time to react, and his arm was sliced cleanly open. The wound was not deep, but the pain was enough to bring Olberic down on one knee. He gripped the wound tight, trying his best to stop the blood from dripping out. The knight stood behind him, his blade still in hand. The earth shook as he dropped it to the ground.

“Become the Warrior that will protect all those in need, even in death.”

That was the last thing Olberic heard before the knight seemingly vanished. He held his wound as it burned, and his skin seemingly closed and twisted amongst itself. The pain was agonizing, and he cried out as it felt like his arm was being ripped from it’s socket. No injury he had received prior was as painful as what he felt now. It hurt even more than betrayal.

It was a six-year-old girl who found Olberic and tended to his wound. Her name was Cecily, her parents traveling merchants who had been killed in the battle prior. She had heard his cries of agony as she wept, and out of both fear for her own life and hope for a savior, she had followed them. There she found Olberic, whom she treated with what little medical supplies her parents had left behind. It was she who had noticed what his wound had become.

Where Olberic’s arm had been sliced open, there now appeared a strange mark. Though he still bled, the wound he received had managed curve in line with the shape that had been created. It was wrapped quickly, and the bleeding eventually stopped. Though Olberic could no longer see it, he knew he had seen the mark somewhere before. It was the same mark he saw every time he prepared for battle; it was the symbol he saw when he had prayed.

Brand had returned to the mortal plane, and with him, he brought his blessing of protection.

A blessing that would only be given to a chosen Warrior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I resist the urge to make a meme joke, I welcome you back to the end of another chapter! Today, we learned about Olberic and how he came to receive his mark (and adopt a cute daughter in the process)! Some of you may have some questions relating to some of the info presented her, but chances are, they're going to be answered in a fic posted at a later date! ...it will be a far later date, but it'll still be there.
> 
> A lot of Olberic's backstory pulls from his canon background, but it will begin to differ once we get into the main series! I wanted to keep some things along a recognizable line, which we'll keep seeing more of as we go!
> 
> Press F to pay respect for Brand's Arms.


	5. Sealticge's Dancer

Sealticge was the only Goddess who ever birthed a child.

Spreading feelings of Creativity and Passion, Sealticge was known for both her beautiful voice and dancing. She was enchanting, and the chimes of the fan she carried at her side was said to provide all the sound she ever needed. Inspiration filled all those who saw her, and she was a muse to those who wished to follow their own paths in life. She encouraged all who saw her to be creative, to follow the passion that they felt in their hearts. Only then, would true happiness be found.

But behind the beauty and grace she presented, there was still more to her.

There was a reason she was also the Goddess of Vengeance.

She had been in the Sunlands, where she danced and told stories older than time itself. Many eyes were watching her, and her movements were swift as she danced to the chimes of her fan. She mesmerized all who watched her, and a large crowd had formed. There were locals and travelers alike, all in awe of Sealticge’s dance. The song she sang only added to her allure.

When her performance was complete, Sealticge disappeared from the public eye. She enjoyed her privacy, and only wished to be known by the public when she performed. When she was not on stage, she would disguise herself as a common woman, sneaking away to do as she pleased. She blended in easily amongst the travelers, as people from all walks of life had come to see her. Even when she spoke, nobody knew it was her.

There was one person, however, she failed to fool.

He was a young nobleman and the owner of the theater she had danced in. He had many fine dancers under his service, all who hid away when Sealticge was on the stage. She sensed something was not right with them, as they avoided the gaze of anyone who looked at them. The only times they dare faced another was when they themselves were on stage. It hurt Sealticge’s heart to see them this way.

She had tried to speak with one of the dancers when the nobleman grabbed her by the arm. He said she was not welcome in the theater after hours and promptly attempted to escort her out. It was when he tried to drag her out that he heard familiar chimes. From under the sash that Sealticge wore, her fan had made a soft jingle. The nobleman seized it without a second thought.

It told him who she really was.

It was then that Sealticge was forced into the man’s services against her own will. While the girls all danced during the day, they were forced to sell their bodies during the night. Sealticge fell victim to such horrors, and she herself became a favorite of the nobleman. He would shame her for what she had become, and force her to do acts she dared not speak of. It filled her to the core with anger.

Yet without her fan, she could not leave. It was a priceless heirloom, and one that she could not just leave in the hands of such a lecherous and greedy man. For the longest time, she did not know where he kept it. Though she searched high and low in the theater when she was alone, there was no sign of the beautiful item she treasured. Not even the sounds of the chimes could be heard.

It was by some stroke of luck she recovered her fan. She had done her days worth of dancing, and the night was soon to come. While other girls were given their assignments, Sealticge was once more asked to meet the nobleman in his room. It meant that she would be his companion for the night. She tensed and did as she was asked.

It was on the nightstand she noticed something different. Where there had originally always been a glass of wine for her, her fan had been placed instead. The nobleman told her to take it and to dance for him. He wanted a private show from her that night, but she was no Goddess without her fan. A seductive smile spread across Sealticge’s lips.

Taking her fan, she removed the concealed dagger and plunged it into the nobleman’s heart.

Within her fan, she had always stored a bit of her power. Her divine weapon, henceforth known as Sealtcige’s Seduction, allowed her to unlock her full potential. With it gone, she was only as strong as any other human on the mortal plane. Now, she had restored herself, and taken her vengeance on the one who tormented her. His heart would now be plunged into darkness.

With the owner of the theater slain at Sealticge’s hands, the dancers had been freed. Many returned to their homes, while others searched for a new place to go. Sealticge herself, restored to her full glory, continued her own travels to the west.

It was there she met a traveling apothecary.

Her prior experience had led Sealticge to be less trustful of others, but the apothecary only smiled at her gently as he healed a wound she had received. He was kind, and Sealticge found herself drawn to him. She had no final destination for her travels, so she decided to join the apothecary out of the kindness of her heart. The two got along well, and it was often noted he was present when she performed. Whispers and rumors of them began to spread as their travels carried on.

Those rumors, however, died down when the two parted ways after years of traveling together. While Sealticge wished to continue traveling, the Apothecary had chosen to finally settle down. They shared a tearful goodbye, and Sealticge disappeared back into the world while the Apothecary lived a peaceful and quiet life.

Sealticge’s daughter was born nine months later.

And the Goddess was never seen on the mortal plane again.

It was not known why Sealticge gave her daughter up to the mortal world, but the truth of the girl’s lineage had been discovered when the girl turned 18. She had been gifted a golden fan and a letter by her adoptive mother, saying her birth mother had left them. Within that letter it was revealed that she was the daughter of Sealticge, and the fan alone was proof of that. The Goddess wanted her daughter to carry on her legacy, dancing and singing stories for all to hear. It was the beginning of an ever extending noble line, lasting for generations.

And it was always believed that when Sealticge felt her stories were lost to time, one of her descendants would rise.

They would be marked by the Goddess herself, and become her Chosen Dancer, spreading feelings of everything Sealticge believed in.

As both an Azelhart and descendant of Sealticge, Primrose knew the stories well. It was traditions for daughters of the Azelhart line to dance the role of Sealticge in yearly festivals, where stories of all Gods and Goddesses of Orsterra were told. Six months of the year, the eldest Azelhart daughter, or a girl chosen by the family if there were none, would spend time training with 12 other girls selected to dance the roles of other gods. Then, during a week long celebration in Sunshade, they would dance and sing for all to hear.

Primrose had inherited the role early, after her mother, the eldest daughter of the previous generation, had been murdered at the hands of an unknown menace. She could remember the tears that both she and her father shed for her mother, and the cries of the 12 dancers as they mourned. Their Sealticge had been lost, and the next Daughter of Sealticge was no more than 10-years-old. The next festival was close, and a replacement could not be found in time. Having learned by watching her mother dance, Primrose had no choice but to take the lead.

At 14-years-old, Primrose had adjusted to her role. She had acquired her own dancers a year prior, and her mother’s had all retired. It was the off season, and she spent most of her time dancing in the gardens as her maids watched. There was one day, however, where she was found herself all alone. Her father was inside talking with the gardener’s apprentice, and the maids were off doing chores. She could hear her father and the apprentice discussing a shipment of highly poisonous but valuable medicinal herbs the apprentice had taken to the southwest the previous year; it was an odd subject, and she chose to tune it out.

With no eyes on her, Primrose danced in a lazy and carefree manner. Here, nobody saw her as Sealticge, but instead as Primrose Azelhart. As she slowly twirled, she began to grow dizzy. It was not in her nature to get sick, but the slowness in her steps had messed with her. As she lost her balance, a beautiful woman caught her and held her steady.

“May I have this dance?”

Primrose looked at the woman, who smiled in return. Though Primrose had never seen her before, something inside her said she knew the woman well. Extending her hand, she allowed the woman to take it and spin her around. The nausea Primrose was feeling disappeared almost instantly, and she felt light on hear feet as the woman joined her. The woman could dance well.

Primrose danced with the woman for what felt like hours. To her surprise, the woman knew all of Sealticge’s dances by heart, and even rivaled Primrose in her ability to perform them. Primrose wondered if she was a retired dancer, but she seemed too young to be one from her mother’s group. She couldn’t remember seeing one who looked like the woman either. It was odd.

There was a graceful bow from both of them as they ended their final dance. Primrose looked up at the woman and asked how she had been able to dance for Sealticge so well. The woman laughed and said that it was only natural she knew them, as they were dances she had made herself.

Primrose gasped as she realized who it was who stood before her.

The Goddess extended her hand once more, and mimed for Primrose to continue dancing with her. In complete disbelief, Primrose hesitantly accepted and watched as shadows grew around them. Suddenly, they were surrounded by shadowy dancers, all with faces that Primrose felt she had seen in portraits. They danced a dance she had never seen before, with each step being more intense than the last. Dozens of them danced in sync, only stopping when Sealticge herself joined them.

“Remember this dance, my dear Primrose, and spread it to all you meet.”

When the Goddess disappeared, Primrose ran inside to see her father. She wanted to tell him about everything she had seen, and that Sealticge herself had come to her. She found her father in his office, reading reports that had been given to him earlier. When she called to him, he looked up at her. He dropped the papers he was holding in shock.

He asked what had happened to her collarbone, pointing at something strange that appeared. Primrose looked down, spotting a marking that appeared to be a budding rose. She couldn’t be too sure while it was upside down in her view.

She looked back up at her father and told her that Sealticge had come to see her. That they had danced together and she had showed her so many new things. She wanted to practice the dance Sealticge had asked her to- the one where she swore she saw her mother.

Geoffrey Azelhart sat at his desk and told his daughter to come close. When she was at his side, he told her that this couldn’t have been a coincidence. Stories of the Chosen Marked had begun to spread, and now Primrose had been selected to be one as well. It was her destiny as a daughter of Sealticge, and a title she needed to honor with pride. Her life was going to change forever...

...but Primrose easily accepted her destiny. She had grown up being told all about it. It was now her duty to spread Sealticge’s dances, as the Goddess has asked of her; to show the world what they had forgotten.

It was her duty as Sealticge’s Chosen Dancer to dance until the day she no longer could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before I go any further just going to drop some notes for that apply to this AU in case anybody has questions:  
> 1) Sealticcge's daughter lost any sense of divinity she had when she was left in the mortal world.  
> 2) Primrose's mother is from the Azelhart family. As a direct line from Sealticge, their last name is taken no matter what. Geoffrey married into the family in this AU instead of being of the noble line as is in canon.  
> 3) Geoffrey doesn't get stabbed in this AU! ...it's Dahlia instead.
> 
> That's really all you need to know here! To be honest, this and the last fic is the only reason I wanted to give this series a "T" rating, even if it's nothing explicit. I'm honestly horrible with ratings and wanted to be safe whoops.
> 
> But yeah, Primrose is our one lucky Chosen who is a direct descendant of their god! This'll play a lot into her story later! ...along with the very obvious ship that was hinted!


	6. Dohter's Miracle

During his time in the mortal world, Dohter had only ever failed to save a single life.

Being the God of Curiosity, Healing, and Generosity, Dohter was known for being a kind soul. He spent his days in the mortal world helping those in need, and his warm heart was said to solve any problem presented to him. Dohter had a great love for humanity, and it was not uncommon for him to even check up on those he had helped before, even if years had passed. Though he knew humanity could not rely on him forever, Dohter continued to aid those who were injured or ill. As a god who had helped shape the world, he felt it was his neverending duty to serve those who made it their home.

Dohter took it upon himself to heal the people of Orsterra with a gentle touch, thus establishing himself as the first Apothecary. He traveled the lands endlessly, making many companions, both mortal and divine, along the way. The mortals who traveled with him were taught all he knew of healing and concocting, allowing them to heal others themselves and pass on knowledge of their own. Dohter felt it was the least that he could do to prepare them for the day he would return to the divine plane. Until then, however, he would continue to help those who prayed to him.

That was why he could not turn his back on a sick boy in need.

It was near the end of Dohter’s time in the mortal world; the last patient he took before returning from whence he came. He had settled down in a sleepy village after centuries of traveling, but much of his free time was still focused on healing humanity. Though Dohter no longer traveled, people from all around Orsterra would still ask for his aid. While some humans came to the village in search of Dohter, those who could not make the journey would send letters requesting medicine instead. It allowed him to continue helping those who required his service, yet also live a peaceful life in the Riverlands...

...that was until he received a letter that was different than the rest.

The letter had been sent from a town located in the northeast. A mother’s son had fallen ill, and the local doctors were either too expensive in cost or unable to diagnose him. The family did not have enough money to pay an elite doctor to treat the boy, so she had written to Dohter begging him for help. Feeling sympathy for the woman, Dohter set out on the long journey to answer her call. He prayed the boy didn’t perish before his arrival.

When Dohter reached his destination, he discovered the family living in a run down home in the western part of town. It was in poor shape, yet the family had somehow managed to make it liveable. When the boy’s mother opened the door to him, she almost fell to her knees in disbelief. Dohter had truly come, and now there was a chance her son would be saved. She could not help but weep tears of relief in Dohter’s arms.

After the mother dried her tears, she led Dohter to where her son had been staying. To keep her daughter and herself from becoming sick, she had moved her son into her own room while she stayed with her daughter in another. The boy was frail, having been sick for weeks, and a fever made him delirious. Wet rags were placed on his forehead and neck, and a glass of cold water was placed on the nightstand next to him. Dozens of medicines were also placed there, but the boy’s mother said they had barely worked.

It was a miracle the boy was still alive.

Dohter immediately went to work on trying to diagnose the boy, and it was during this time that the god learned more about the family and all that they had been through. The boy’s sister was adopted, having been given to the boy’s parents when she was a baby; currently, she served as a dancer, performing on the streets for coin. The boy himself was biologically his mother’s child, but his father had passed away shortly before he was born. With two children to feed, their mother began working in place of her husband at the local inn, where she spent most hours of the day, to help make ends meet. They were barely able to get by on what little they had, but they found a way to make it through each day.

With further questioning, the god also discovered that the boy had fallen ill under strange circumstances. The young boy had woken up in the early morning perfectly healthy, but by the time he returned home in the afternoon he was complaining of lightheadedness. By the evening, he had developed a fever, becoming bedridden and barely conscious. There had been no prior indicator that he was falling ill, and it had come without any warning. Despite the mysterious origins, however, Dohter was not deterred from figuring out the source of the boy’s illness.

Yet as he worked, even Dohter himself could not diagnose the disease.

There were many illnesses that could be causing the boy’s symptoms, but none of Dohter’s treatments were working. After many failed attempts at finding a cure, he changed his approach and instead tried giving the boy different medicines for each symptom. When the boy only continued to get worse, Dohter was at a loss of what could be happening, yet he refused to give up. The boy was still young and had much of his life left to live; Dohter would not allow it to be cut short. One way or another, he would find a cure...

...but that cure would come too late.

On the third day under Dohter’s care, the boy slipped out of consciousness and would not wake up. His fever had refused to break, and the delusions had been worsening up until he could no longer stay awake without being in a panic. Even with the boy’s current state, Dohter worked tirelessly to find an answer to what was causing such an illness. In a risky attempt to learn more, Dohter left the boy’s side to wander around town. There, he hoped to find some sort of lead.

Many of the villagers that Dohter talked to said the same thing: the boy had gone out to play with friends and returned ill later in the day. No other child he was with had showed symptoms, and it seemed the boy was the only one who had gotten sick. Dohter spent the afternoon asking the children about what had happened, but none of them seem interested in talking. They all seemed afraid of him, and whenever he asked a question they whispered among each other. It was not until Dohter said that their friend might die that one of them finally spoke up.

The boy had consumed a poisonous herb on a dare.

The herb was not of local origin and had instead been acquired by a local doctor for study. His daughter had gotten a hold of it and showed her friends, whom she all dared to eat it. While most of the children had refused, the boy, who had a crush on the girl, ate it in an attempt to impress her. He had no idea about the damage it would cause him, nor that it would leave him bedridden. This gave Dohter the answer he needed, however, and he rushed back to the boy with the knowledge on how to cure him.

...but the Miracle keeping the boy alive for so long did not last.

He had already passed when Dohter returned.

It was a story Alfyn had heard many times during his time training to become an Apothecary in his own right. Most teachers used it as a way to remind their students that even the greatest of healers could lose patients, with his teacher included. It was a reality of life that not everyone would survive, but Alfyn had always hoped to save every life he could anyway. It led to his friend Zeph calling him a modern day Dohter, though Alfyn didn’t see anything wrong with that. Dohter had been the world’s first apothecary after all.

It was when a traveling apothecary came through town that Alfyn learned that there was more to the story. For some reason, the apothecary had wanted to meet him, citing that he had heard tales of a boy who had miraculously recovered from a mysterious illness. Though it was true Alfyn had survived a rather unfortunate illness as a child, he didn’t see it as a miracle. A kind doctor had been able to cure him, and there wasn’t much more to it. It had, however, always been odd to Alfyn that his mother could never recall the doctor showing up in the first place.

When the apothecary sat down with Alfyn, he asked the young man if he had heard the stories. When Alfyn said he knew them, the apothecary explained that Dohter left the mortal world the very next day. He had been distraught by what had happened with the boy and felt he had failed humanity. It was then though that Dohter vowed he would atone for his failure. He promised that if a child was ever in need of him again, he would save them from sharing the boy’s fate.

“You are a miracle of Dohter, child, and you should not forget that.”

The next day, the Apothecary disappeared without a trace. When Alfyn asked others in the village if they had seen the traveler, nobody recalled such a person ever being in the village. It was if the apothecary had never existed, but Alfyn could clearly remember what he had been told. Seeking answers, Alfyn went to his own teacher with his curiosities.

There he asked if his teacher knew about Dohter’s promise.

His teacher explained that Dohter’s promise was indeed a part of the story, but it had become more of a myth than reality. It was stated that Dohter would save a young child’s life and mark them, and that the child would grow up to help those Dohter could not. Though rumors of children bearing Dohter’s mark were common, no claims ever turned out to be true. They were either marks created by desperate parents or marks made from a treatment. The Priest of Dohter had debunked all of them.

After leaving his teacher, Alfyn couldn’t help but think back on his own experience. He had only been a child, barely 11-years-old, and was thought to have been asleep when his mother was told he was going to die. His disease had progressed beyond control, and no doctor had been able to find a cure. That was until the mysterious doctor who saved him appeared, sitting next to Alfyn and holding his hand. He had asked Alfyn questions, staying with him until he fell asleep, and when Alfyn awoke, he had been cured.

Then there was the marking that had appeared on his hand.

On his palm, Alfyn had developed some sort of pattern. It had not been there when he first fell ill, but after his recovery it had suddenly appeared. Alfyn hadn’t put much thought into at first, having believed it to have been left by his treatment, but as time passed, he was curious to as of why it never disappeared and only seemed to grow. Now though… He had a better understanding of what it was.

“You are a miracle of Dohter.”

The Apothecary’s words rang in Alfyn’s head as he realized who they had been. They were the same doctor who had come to see him as a child, the same doctor who had healed him. The apothecary had performed a miracle by saving Alfyn, and he had atoned for the past failures he had made. He had left his mark, only to return years later, yet somehow, Alfyn could not be surprised. He knew there was a reason...

They had always said Dohter returned to see his patients, and Alfyn was Dohter’s Chosen Miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I love Alfyn" - my best friend as I try to start this note
> 
> Anyway, Alfyn is a good noodle and the next person on our list! Out of all the characters, he's actually the most secretive about his mark and doesn't really like making himself look special. Even as a Divine Chosen, he just wants to be normal ol' Alfyn who goes around helping people in need. Nothing much has changed for him other than he now has the opportunity to get a gnarly divine axe. He's a simple bow.
> 
> Also parallels and hidden lore. Ya know, the good stuff.


	7. Aeber's Legacy

Every thief knew the story.

Aeber, the illusory God of Luck, Mischief, and Travelers had fallen in love. At the time, he was nothing more than a petty thief, and his love a noble woman of high prowess. She had wealth and beauty both, and many eyes were on her and her fortune. An endless line of men came seeking her hand in marriage; however, they all received rejection without a second thought. It was what made her an impossible treasure; a priceless fortune waiting to be obtained...

She was the Lady Bifelgan, the Goddess of Fertility, Fortune, and Wealth.

When the world was still young, Aeber and Bifelgan had both given gifts to humanity. While Bifelgan gave the people gifts of gold and goodwill, Aeber gave them gifts of thievery and selfishness. It had caused a rift in the mortal world, and both fortune and misfortune were born. While those who found fortune turned to Bifelgan, those who fell into misfortune turned to Aeber in their times of need. It was an endless cycle of wealth and greed, and the two were bound to it forever.

But it was not a desire for wealth or feelings of greed that caused Aeber to fall for Bifelgan.

Bifelgan was a kind soul, yet she knew how to speak her mind. She cared for all people, no matter their economic status, and used her powers to help those in need. She was fair and just, and all those she helped were grateful. Even if she looked down upon thievery and greed, Aeber couldn’t help but hold her in his heart. She was a treasure he wanted to have for himself, and her value was beyond any fortune he had seen.

To him, she was his most precious treasure.

But she was always just barely out of his reach.

No man could win Bifelgan’s heart, and it was believed that no man, nor woman, ever would. Though Aeber admired her for who she was and not for her fortune, a lowly man such as himself could never find a way to be near her. He’d have to make a name for himself, becoming something more than a petty thief. He was skilled in what he did, and he did not care if Bifelgan looked down among thieves like him. Stealing was his lifeblood and the one thing that would allow him to become known...

If he wanted to steal her heart, he’d have to steal from others...

And so steal he did.

For four years the lowly thief honed his craft. He stole gold and jewels alike, and many valuable items went missing after they fell into his hands. Soon, whispers of his name had began to spread, and in time it became feared by all who heard it. He was Aeber, the Prince of Thieves, and all of the wealth in the world would eventually be lost to him. No treasure could escape his grasp, and there was no one who could stop him.

No longer just a petty thief, Aeber stood tall amongst all those who chose to follow him. He was a leader to the misfortunate, and his name was now known amongst both thief and merchant alike. An endless supply of riches was in his grasp, and it was rumored that his fortune rivaled that of the wealthiest noblemen. Any noble who said otherwise soon found their fortunes missing, with nothing more than a symbol on paper left in its place. There was thought to be no treasure that Aeber couldn’t get his hands on.

Yet there was one treasure, however, he had still yet to obtain.

The treasure that had a hold on his heart.

When Aeber went to obtain Bifelgan’s heart, she had only become more beautiful and kind. No one had yet to claim such a priceless treasure, and her fortune only continued to grow. Even with all of her wealth, Aeber still kept his eyes only on her. All of his thievery had been done in the name of his love for her, and he had made it known. The world knew the Prince of Thieves was in love with the Lady Bifelgan.

Though a thief like himself would have never been allowed in her home, Aeber had easily been able to sneak in. The guards had no ability to detect him, and he had no worries of being caught. He would be able to make his way to Bifelgan’s chamber with ease, and once there, he’d finally be able to claim his final treasure. For her, he would risk losing everything he had ever taken. She was the only treasure he would ever truly need in his collection.

...yet Bifelgan had known Aeber was coming.

She knew he had come to her chambers to steal her heart.

He spoke with her and promised to give her all of the wealth she could imagine.

But she said she would not fall for a man who could only hold greed in his heart.

He told her that it was love that had drove him to steal and not greed.

Yet she still refused.

Guards were called to take the thief away, but he escaped before they could lay a finger on him. His heart had been broken, and the legends said that he left a trail of black flames and gold behind him. Reports of the Prince of Thieves died down, and it seemed he had disappeared completely. Without a leader, petty thieves fell back into the regular cycle of wealth and greed. It had returned to how it had been before Aeber had even risen to power.

Aeber, however, had never truly left.

With his heart now broken and blackened, he disappeared permanently into the shadows and became more elusive than before. His thievery became violent, and horrors of the Prince who left merchants to die quickly began to spread. The Lady Bifelgan herself took it upon herself to protect the world from Aeber, yet he was never truly caught. His treasure, said to be worth millions, only continued to grow, yet it was never found. His heart had been shattered and left without emotion, yet he still felt the pain of heartbreak.

When Aeber and Bifelgan disappeared into the pages of history, rumors began to spread. Aeber was not finished in the mortal world, and one day, a thief with the same luck and skill as Aeber would be chosen to bear his mark. That thief would then take his name, and a new Prince of Thieves would be born, while Aeber himself would ascend to King. All of his treasure would belong to them, even the treasure he never obtained. They would be known as his successor, as Aeber’s Legacy….

...yet Therion had not wanted it to be him.

When the mark appeared, he should have been dead. He had been betrayed, left on death’s doorstep by somebody who he had trusted. His bones had been broken, his body cut, and his wounds left to bleed out. In his current state, he was almost unrecognizable. That would be all the better for the thief who had done this to him, somebody he had considered a friend.

But they were a friend no longer.

For as long as they had worked together, it had been Therion’s partner who wanted Aeber’s title. They honed their craft by Therion’s side, all in hopes they would be blessed by Aeber himself. Therion had no interest in such a thing, and only stole to survive. His skill had increased on its own, and by a cruel twist of fate, bypassed his partner’s own ability. It was if somebody had played a sick joke on them; a sick joke that went too far.

As he laid among the jagged rocks, Therion struggled to drag himself to a place where he could die in peace. The pain he felt was agonizing, but he refused to die where others could find him. He wanted to die in the shadows, where he could be forgotten forever. As he dragged himself and continued to bleed out, he felt himself grow lighter and drift away. His time had come, and he was willing to accept it with open arms.

It was then that a voice spoke to him.

“You are my legacy…”

Suddenly, a strange figure clad in dark flames stood before him. Their gaze was fierce and filled with burning emotions, but their full appearance was a mess of blurs. Light hair, dark skin, and a shackle upon his wrist. He reminded Therion of himself, yet this figure was far different. They were powerful, mysterious, and much, much taller.

Therion had passed out before he could respond. When he awoke, he was in a place he had never seen before. A hideout hidden within a cave, where treasure was everywhere he looked. Beyond a hidden door, he could hear a river gently passing through, and barely passed where he sat, a large opening gave a view of the cliffside outside. By the state of everything around him, the area had remained untouched for centuries.

Therion had no memory of how he had gotten there, and barely any memories of the moments leading up to passing out. He could recall a voice speaking to him, but it was foggy and twisted in his head. The image of a man appeared in his thoughts, but almost everything about them was lost in his mind. It was then that Therion’s eye began to sting, but when he placed a hand up to cover it, it was then that he began to remember…

That eye had been lost.

With his remaining eye, Therion darted his gaze around until he spotted a mirror. It was decent in size, though it didn’t matter much to a man who had no need to regularly look at one. Here, however, it would be good enough for inspecting the damage he had received.

To Therion’s surprise, it did not hurt when he moved. Though he knew his bones had been broken, they seemed to have been miraculously healed, yet there didn’t seem to be anybody who could have done it in sight. Perhaps they had stepped out for a moment and would return later? Though Therion could not think of anybody who would want to keep him alive.

Yet Therion had realized who it had been as soon as he saw his own face in the mirror.

On the left side of his face, where his eye had been lost, there was a scar. Though at first glance it seemed normal, the more Therion looked at it, the more he realized it wasn’t. It curved in odd ways it shouldn’t have, and it looked almost too perfectly shaped. The lines were smooth instead of jagged, and a very subtle shape had been formed. Admittedly, he knew what it was before he had even finished inspecting it.

It was Aeber’s mark.

He had been chosen as the next Prince of Thieves.

He had become what he had never wanted to be.

It was then that the cave began to echo. “You are my legacy,” the voice once again rang out. “Take my name and finish what I could not.”

The pain came rushing back and Therion fell to his knees. He could not move his legs, and he covered his lost eye in agony. The reason he been betrayed, the reason he had almost been killed… It had all been to rid him as competition. It hadn’t been him who wanted the title, yet he was punished for it anyway. Anger rushed through his body, and he could feel the pain increase.

Through the suffering, Therion forced himself to stand up and look into the mirror. There, he could see the fierce gaze of the strange figure in his own eye, while the mark continued to cover the other. Refusing to let himself become what he had wanted to avoid, he took his hand and swept down his bangs. With his missing eye covered, the mark would be hidden from view. Nobody would know it was him.

Therion knew he could not fully escape his fate, however, as the God of Misfortune would not allow it. Therion was lucky to be alive, and he had become a symbol of the god as a result. He knew what had to be done.

He would take Aeber’s name.

He would become the Prince of Thieves.

He would finish what Aeber had started.

And he would prove he was better than the God who had marked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After waiting for far too long, we're finally at my favorite chapter! Therion is my overall favorite character (with Tressa in second) so his fic was actually the first one that I wrote for this series! It might be a little bit weirder than the others as a result, but when I wrote Tressa's fic later, I really wanted it to parallel this one. It'll play a huge role in our story later.
> 
> It might be obvious by now since I mentioned that Tressa was one of the first two who started this AU, but Therion is the other one! The AU has changed a lot since the fic that first conceived it, but I think it's turned into something really cool!
> 
> Also Aeber has a few problems. Somebody really needs to get him to chill, but it's not going to be Bifelgan.


	8. Draefendi's Companion

Hunters were often told that death did not always mean the end of life.

It was the Goddess Draefendi who made this possible. The people saw her as a mother to the world, as she had domain over Companionship, Hunting, and Nature. It was she who created the forests and all which inhabited them, and it was believed without her life would disappear. Humanity dared not disrespect her, as it could mean the difference between life and death itself. It was if she had created an unspoken law amongst the land.

Despite the fear some mortals felt towards her, she remained gentle and kind to most. She spoke with them, taught them how to hunt, and helped them become closer to the earth. It was said she would form hunting parties, where all humans who joined would learn the importance of being one with nature. She treated them as pupils, no matter if they were young or old, and taught them well. They were all her apprentices, and she wanted to watch them grow.

There was one mortal, however, who was different than the rest.

They were a skilled hunter; the only one who was ever said to match Draefendi in strength. They had come from a small village in the snowy mountains, where they had been hunting all their life. It had not been Draefendi who taught them, but they had instead learned by watching how the world worked. They were connected to nature in their own way, and their hunting benefited from it. It fascinated Draefendi from the start.

They met by chance, when they were both hunting the same boar. Draefendi had chased it through the forest and finally had it in her sights. When she took aim with her divine bow, her shot was interrupted. Without warning, a stray arrow pierced the boar in the chest. The boar died within moments of being shot.

It was then that the hunter made themself known.

They did not notice Draefendi as they approached their kill. Kneeling down, they took a moment to pray in order to thank the boar for its life, as it would go on to help others in its death. The boar would continue on in other forms, and what could not be used would be returned to the forest to be born anew. Draefendi watched until the hunter rose back to their feet. That was when she approached.

She congratulated the hunter; saying they were the first mortal to ever beat her in a hunt. Though she sometimes let mortals have the kill during her hunting parties, this was the first time somebody had taken the kill without her granting it. The hunter was taken aback, shocked to be in the presence of the goddess. The apologized for taking her kill, and begged for mercy on their own life. The Goddess Draefendi told them not to worry, that she was impressed with their skill.

She was impressed enough she asked the hunter to become her companion.

From then on, the hunter was always at Draefendi’s side on a hunt. The two of them worked in unison to track their prey, and the kill went to whoever noticed their opening first. They were equals on the hunt, though they always praised each other as their superior. The hunter adopted the way that Draefendi used her bow, and Draefendi joined the hunter in their prayers. It was said to be the beginning of the beliefs all hunters of S’warkii would come to have.

The two hunted together for two decades before things began to change. The hunter was still mortal, and age had started to take a toll on their body. Though Draefendi was forever young and easily able to hunt, the hunter had begun to show the signs of their increasing age. Their skill was no longer on par with Draefendi’s, and it was rare that they were able to get the kill. The Goddess noticed her companion’s decline, and she did what she could to help them.

At the end of a gruesome winter, when spring was starting to bloom, Draefendi gifted her companion the powers of nature. Though it was nothing in comparison to her own, she hoped it was enough for them to continue traveling together. The hunter was grateful, but always reminded Draefendi they would not always be around. It was the nature of the law that she created: in time, all mortal life would end with death.

And for the hunter, death came swiftly and without warning.

It was the middle of the same spring in which Draefendi had gifted the hunter their powers. The hunter’s strength had been renewed, and they had been able to hunt with ease as they once did before. The two had been tasked with killing a monster; a red-eyed beast said to be decimating the forest from within. The trees had began to wilt, and the animals becoming creatures of rotting flesh. It was something that should have never existed.

Draefendi did not know of the beast’s origins, but it could not be left alive. Divine bow and axe in hand, she and the hunter entered the forest that the beast had made its home. They followed a trail of decimation to the monster’s den, where they found it feasting on the flesh of animals it had killed. It was a horrifying sight, but Draefendi and the hunter were not deterred. They knew what had to be done.

The hunt ensued, but the beast was not like any prey that they had encountered before. It did not run, but instead charged in an attempt to kill them. Draefendi and the hunter dodged where they could, but the beast was still in a league of its own. The two hunters shot arrows from a distance, and Draefendi would slash the beast with her axe when it was close. Soon, the beast was miraculously close to death, and Draefendi went to land the final blow.

She should have realized the beast would continue to charge.

There was a blur of red as Draefendi was pushed out of the way. It was not the beast who had done it, but the hunter who had been her companion. They took the blow in her place to protect her, and their body was left mangled and broken. In a fit of rage, Draefendi attacked the beast once more. It was then the monster was finally slain.

The Goddess held her dying companion in her arms as their life wilted away. The hunter told her not to mourn for them, but instead honor the life they had been given. It was the belief that they had created together, and one that should continue. Draefendi, however, did not wish to see her companion perish. She wanted them to continue to live on in some other way.

With what power she could muster between them, the Goddess managed to change the hunter into a beast; a form where they could forever be seen as Draefendi’s Companion.

Now, not even death could separate them.

As a child growing up in a snowy forest town, H’aanit knew the tale of how the first snow leopard came to be. Hunters who came through often told it in the tavern her parents owned, where she often found herself sitting and listening from behind the counter. Though she was no more than 8-years-old, she found enjoyment in stories of being on the hunt. When the hunters left late into the evening to prepare for the next morning’s hunt, she would often ask if she could tag along. They would always laugh and state that she was too young, and that the hunt was too dangerous for such a little girl.

Fed up with such treatment, the young girl decided that she had enough.

On a snowy winter morning, H’aanit headed into the forest with a makeshift bow in hand. Though she had no experience in using one, she had watched many times as hunters and huntresses used trees for target practice. It was from those trees she had pulled her arrows, placing them in a roll of poorly stitched fabric she used as a quiver. She thought perhaps if she were to use their equipment, she may be able to obtain some of their skill on the hunt. It would help her to take down her prey.

Deep in the forest, H’aanit found herself following the tracks of a deer. They were visible in the deep snow, and she had no trouble tracking the creature down. Soon, she found the creature trying to graze in a spot of uncovered grass, where the snow had managed to melt. Raising her bow, the young girl pointed her arrow at the deer’s side. She prepared to take the shot.

Yet it was not her arrow that hit the mark.

H’aanit was unsure where the arrow had come from at first, but it had caught her off guard. No hunters were currently in the area, and the snow was too deep for most travelers to pass through. To her surprise, however, a beautiful huntress appeared from behind a group of trees and approached the deer. A pack of snow leopards followed behind her. It made her seem powerful.

H’aanit, however, paid no mind to such a thing. Bow in hand, the girl stormed up to the woman and accused the huntress of stealing her kill. H’aanit had tracked it all the way to this point, and she had even been about to take the shot. Was it not for the huntress, the deer would have been shot at her own hands. The huntress laughed.

“It doest not matter who maken the kill, as long as thou prays for the life thine prey hath given.”

H’aanit looked at the woman, who smiled gently at her. The huntress told her that in the laws of nature, everyone was equal, and that a kill could be shared by all. It did not matter who landed the finishing blow; all those in the hunt would benefit from it. If H’aanit had slain the deer without understanding such, then it’s life would have ended without true purpose. It would have only served as a way to show H’aanit’s skill, not as a benefit to her life.

H’aanit grew flustered as she tried to defend herself. She could not find the right words, and the only sound she made was useless stuttering. The huntress kneeled down and placed her hand on H’aanit’s shoulder. Despite her powerful demeanor, the huntress still seemed kind and gentle. H’aanit was in awe.

“Pray with me for this deer, and thou shall grow to becomen a true huntress.”

When their prayer was complete, the huntress turned to the young girl. The woman told her that she believed H’aanit would grow to be a skilled huntress, yet she still had much more to learn. The huntress recommend she continue to observe other hunters, and practice the craft when she was older. Though H’aanit was determined, it was still dangerous for her to go out alone. It would also help to find a teacher willing to take her on.

When the huntress parted, she gave H’aanit a final gift. It was a snow leopard kit, born from the eldest of the huntress’ own companions. She told H’aanit that all hunters needed a companion, and that snow leopards were a symbol of the Goddess Draefendi herself. It was only fitting that a girl who one day wished to be a great huntress have a kit to call her own. It meant the goddess would see her as her equal.

That was the last time H’aanit saw the woman…

Or so she believed.

It would not be until two years later, after her parents died protecting her and she was taken in by a hunter, when she would realize who the woman had been. H’aanit had been injured in a hunt, and a doctor had come to check her wound. She remembered Linde curled at her feet as her adoptive father and the doctor asked about the mark on her back. She did not understand what they meant, saying it was an old wound. The two of them, however, told her it was not a wound, but the mark of Draefendi herself.

The Goddess had left is as proof of her hopes that H’aanit would grow into a great huntress…

And become worthy of being her Chosen Companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "IT'S MY GIRL" - my best friend, once again
> 
> And with this fic, we have finally reached the last of the main eight chosen! H'aanit was the last of them written along with being the last chapter, so I'm always a bit worried that she got the short end of the stick as a result. Out of all the chosen, she's the one who had her story tweaked the most from conception to present! I'm happy with where it is now, but I hope I managed to convey it properly! There's a lot still left to be said, but as we explore her character in the main series, everything will come together!
> 
> Also this specific chapter was dubbed "H'aanit yells at God" the entirety of the time I was waiting to post this.


	9. Balogar's Lord

Within a world that revolved around fortune and misfortune, there was a need for balance between the two sides. **  
**

It was the god Balogar who was responsible for maintaining this balance, along with holding control over the elements and the domain of loyalty. While many mortals naturally fell to the side of either wealth or greed, there were still those who found themselves falling in between. These mortals were the ones who connected the two sides, serving as a bridge that either saved the misfortunate or hindered the fortunate. It was an ever constant flow, and much of humanity would consistently go back and forth in this cycle. Those who did not move, however, were the ones who found themselves continuously loyal to their god.

But it was not always Balogar whom they chose to be loyal to.

The God Aeber and Goddess Bifelgan had created the cycle of wealth and greed, and Balogar was the one who fell between them. While those who found neither sided with the Lord Balogar, those who found greed sided with the Thief Aeber and those who found wealth with the Lady Bifelgan. Though the Lord Balogar did not wish for humanity to suffer from their misfortune, nor for their fortune to corrupt them, it was not in his power to change it. It was a constant struggle, but the balance was always stable thanks to his hand. He took his duty seriously.

In time, however, the balance began to falter.

Though they came into existence centuries apart, Balogar and the Goddess Bifelgan had been born from the same divine power. It made them sibling gods, and Balogar was ever loyal to his younger sister, whom he considered his greatest treasure. Though they spent time apart upon first entering the mortal plane, Balogar did not hesitate to return to his sister’s side when he felt his duty was complete. He became her protector, the head of her guard, and kept her out of harm’s way. He did not wish to see his sister hurt.

It was he who chased Aeber away when the thief came for his sister’s heart. Balogar was enraged, and his powers over the elements went wild. His sister had been put in danger, and he would never forgive the man who had tried to bring her harm. Bifelgan begged and begged for her brother to calm himself, but Balogar had already made up his mind. He would not let Aeber lay a finger on his sister again.

He would pledge himself to the side of wealth, and eradicate all greed in the world.

When Bifelgan began protecting merchants from Aeber’s wrath, Balogar fought at her side. While she battled the shadowy beast, it was his duty to ward off any thieves who had pledged their loyalty to the prince. It pained the god to see such humans place their faith in a monster, but there was nothing he could do to stop them. They had already been lost completely to greed, and to satisfy their desires for wealth they chose to target Bifelgan. Aeber would surely reward any thief who brought the goddess to him.

No lowly thief could stand up to Balogar, however, and they were quickly dealt with each battle. He would strike fear into their hearts, and any who came close would meet the point of his blade. Bifelgan wished for him to spare who he could, but those he could not were laid to rest. They had pledged their loyalty to the wrong side, and this was their punishment. They could not escape it.

There came a time, however, where death would come for Balogar instead.

It was in the Highlands where the god would be faced with his own demise. Aeber had brought ruin to a small village, and the sibling gods had gone to restore its wealth. The people revered them, and they spoke of the creature that had laid waste to them: a shadowy beast that took the form of a man. They told the two gods that the beast had fled to a cave just outside of the village, where it waited to strike again. Wanting to protect the village from more harm, Bifelgan and Balogar vowed to stop the beast once and for all.

Balogar took the lead when the two entered the cave. Shadows were crawling across the walls, and dark flames lit a rocky path. Cautiously leading his sister deeper, Balogar searched for signs of where the beast was hiding. A villager had stated they had managed to injure the creature, and that it was surely still trying to recover. Aeber would not have the energy to fight back.

But it was in truth a trap.

The villager had lied to them in hopes of gold.

Aeber sprang to life from the shadows, targeting the sibling gods who had carelessly wandered in. Caught off guard, Balogar and Bifelgan were unable to properly defend themselves, leaving them open for attack. The shadowy god drew his blade, and a maniacal laugh echoed all around as he charged towards them.

Bifelgan screamed her brother’s name as Aeber pierced Balogar’s stomach.

As blood ran down Balogar’s torso and legs, pain filled his entire body. Aeber pulled the sword from him, and Balogar collapsed backwards into his sister’s arms. Bifelgan, enraged by what Aeber had done, summoned a divine wind to keep the shadowy beast at bay. Unable to touch Bifelgan, Aeber fled back into the shadows, where he would not be harmed. He had disappeared completely by the time the winds finally died down.

On the mortal plane, Balogar’s wounds would surely kill him. Scared for her brother’s life, Bifelgan begged for him to return to the divine plane, where he would be able to recover. At first Balogar refused, stating he would not be able to continue protecting his sister if he were to leave. Tears in her eyes, Bifelgan told him that it did not matter, that she could protect herself well enough and that he knew this. His life was more important than being able to fight by her side.

It was Bifelgan’s tears that convinced Balogar to return to the divine plane. Though reluctant, he knew that his sister was strong and would be able to continue the fight without him. She was not as fragile as he had always treated her.

Yet still, with his final words he made her a promise.

If one day she ever needed him again or found herself lost without him, he would find somebody to take his place at her side.

He would leave his mark on a mortal, one who was a Lord in their own right, and have them protect his greatest treasure in his place…

Living his life as a ruthless pirate, Leon knew a thing or two about treasure. He was young, only twenty-six, and a devout follower of the god Aeber. Piracy was nothing more than thievery at sea, and the thieving god was also known as a protector of travelers, noble or not. Aeber’s protection allowed Leon to steal without worry, and many a merchant’s treasures became his. The pirate easily became feared amongst those who knew him.

In his travels, Leon had heard the stories of how Balogar’s chosen would come to be. The young man, however, did not believe that such a mortal would ever exist. To him, the Divine Chosen were nothing more than a lie created by the church for power, and those that were said to be marked were nothing more than unwilling participants in the church’s schemes. He believed the gods did not get involved in the affairs of mortals, as it would only lead to ruin as it had done centuries ago. Their only duties were to answer prayers and watch humanity from afar..

There would come a day, however, where the young captain would be proven wrong.

It happened during a violent storm. The skies had been clear in the morning, and the young captain and his crew had gone out to sea. Leon’s rival and best friend, the captain of another ship, had warned him the cold wind they felt would bring rain, but he had not believed them. He had his eyes on a grand treasure, and he was determined to finally bring it into his hands. The Crown of Bifelgan would become his.

It had started pouring by the time Leon’s vessel approached the ship harboring the crown. The grand treasure had previously been put on display in the town of Grandport, and now it was being taken back to the Goddess’ shrine by sea. The Priest of Bifelgan had been worried about the possibility of thieves going after the treasure if it had been transported by land, and it was decided a boat would be safer. They hadn’t expected that a captain such as Leon would come after it. He and his crew boarded the ship before those protecting the crown had a chance to stop them.

As the storm worsened, fierce winds and large waves rocked the two vessels back and forth. Both pirate and sailor alike struggled to hold their ground, but Leon continued to push forward. As long as he made it to the lower deck of the ship, the crown would become his. Then he could take it to the shrine of the Prince of Thieves, where he would surely be rewarded. Leon would receive enough gold to live the rest of his life in luxury.

But then it happened.

There was a harsh gust of wind followed by an incredibly strong wave, and the young captain lost his footing…

...when Leon opened his eyes, it was dark. His lungs were burning, and he couldn’t breathe as he drifted deep down into the sea. He reached his arms out to try and swim upwards, but he was too weak to make progress.

He was going to drown.

Fearing for his life, the young captain began to pray. He prayed for Aeber to save him, to let him have another chance. He prayed that the god he had devoted himself to wouldn’t let him die, that he had recognized all the captain had done. Leon didn’t want to die… He wasn’t ready to die!

...yet Aeber did not appear.

And the captain drifted ever deeper.

Death was coming for him.

And there was no way to escape it.

“...brave lord, do you wish to be saved from your watery grave?”

A voice. A voice was calling to Leon. He did not know who it belonged to, but he knew it was there. He thought to himself-  _yes_ , he wanted to be saved! Yes, he wanted to live no matter what! He was not ready to move on!

It was then a figure, glowing ever softly, appeared before Leon. Sword in hand and clad with a helm obscuring their face, they stood as if the water did not exist around them. Seeing the figure in the dim light, Leon’s right eye began to burn. He could not scream as the pain consumed him. He could only continue to drift as he closed his eyes.

“I will save you, but in turn you must do something for me in return. There is a great treasure in this world, and now you must protect it in my place…”

...the second time Leon opened his eyes, it was to the sight of a familiar face. He had washed up onto shore, where his rival had found him. They told Leon that it had been three days since he went after the crown, and his crew had feared he was dead. After Leon fell overboard, they feared for their own lives and retreated without the crown. Leon, however, felt no ill will towards them and their choice; death was not a fate anybody should have to face.

Sitting up, Leon’s eye began to burn again. The captain winced, and his rival asked if he was alright. He explained to them what had happened with the mysterious figure, but how it was probably nothing more than a dream. He had fallen overboard and drifted back to shore on his own. It was nothing more than luck he had made it back alive.

Leon’s rival, however, was not convinced. They asked to see Leon’s eye, which burned stronger than any flame Leon had ever felt. Though the young captain protested at first, he eventually gave in. Pulling back his bangs, Leon brought his right eye into view. It hurt even more to bring it into the light.

His rival stared at him in silence.

Then told Leon what they saw.

A strange pattern had appeared in the iris of Leon’s right eye. It was small, but clearly visible with a glance alone. The young captain laughed, saying he did not believe such a thing had come to develop. His rival was only making a joke so they could hold it over his head later. He would not fall for such trickery.

But then an image suddenly flashed in Leon’s head.

One of a young girl.

One of the treasure he was destined to protect.

From that day forward, Leon’s view on the Divine Chosen and Balogar’s legends changed. The captain came to renounce his belief in Aeber, and instead put his faith in the Lord that the Thief had almost slain. He appointed his rival as the priest who served Balogar, and word of the captain who had been saved began to spread.

Each day, the former captain searched for the treasure he had been shown. Whispers and rumors made their way to him, but he could not find the girl amongst the places he traveled. It would not be until two years after his encounter with death when the young man would finally find what the god claimed to be his greatest treasure.

She was only thirteen, and a great burden had already been placed on her. It had become too much for her, and she had broken down before being pulled away from the public eye. Guards had been hired to protect her, and Leon found himself amongst them. The mark in his eye brought him to the position of captain, a title he had already grown use to. Now, however, he chose to protect a treasure instead of steal it.

To protect Bifelgan’s Idol from those who wished to harm her...

That was his duty as Balogar’s Chosen Lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Floor slippery when wet.
> 
> So originally I was going to wait until I finished Chapter 6 of Aeber and Bifelgan to post this, but that's been taking so long that I decided to post this early. Introducing our next chosen, the wonderful Leon Bastralle! A few of you reading Aeber and Bifelgan already guessed that Leon was a Divine Chosen based on some hints that I dropped, and now I can finally confirm that he is indeed one of them! Since this was supposed to go hand in hand with chapter 6, there will be a bit more info about Leon mentioned there! Until I finish that though... This is what I have for you.
> 
> Also poor Bifelgan. Her fate is to be surrounded by men who are just a little bit too attached to her. Give the poor woman a vacation; she deserves it. Oh yeah, and I guess poor Balogar as well. I guess being stabbed sucks pretty bad too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you're reading this, you've reached the end of what Lore is currently available for this AU! While there are still more chapters to come, these are the chapters of what chosen have been introduced so far! As the remaining Divine Chosen are introduced, their chapters will be added as well!
> 
> If you want more content for this AU, there is a selection of fics to choose from! As of now, the selection is small, but in time it will continue to grow! I'm doing my best to get things out at a reasonable pace!
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support!


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